well im leaving miami this morning to go to orlando to visit my dear friend swede. i mapquest out my directions and call a cab to take me to the train station. it takes longer then expected to drive to the train station. i don’t have enough money. we stop at a gas station. my car refuses to give up any funds. i try my visa. oh you need a pin number to get money from a visa. i wonder what my pin number for my visa, do you know? you should apparently.
we get to the train station with minutes to spare and my foreign cab driver alerts me that they can’t accept credit cards. i wonder what cabbies do in this situation of a dirt bag customer that can’t pay his way.
i beg him into accepting a check for the full amount and hand him over all the cash i have for a tip.
why does toad get all the love in the world.
the train station looks fairly familiar and i realize i slept in this train station one night on my last miami visit so many years ago. i laid on that cold marble floor and watched as the tanks rolled into Baghdad, sleeping the entire night listening to the opening of what would soon become such a terrible idea.
i realize now that i’m on the train and all comfy with my laptop and mp3s that i have nothing to mix with my whiskey and my train doesn’t stop for another 4 hours. i have a liter of whiskey in my backpack, no mixers, no cup to mix it in. this vacation has been a good trial run of the final version of my backpack. i need to keep $50 cash in my backpack at all times as well as a cup or waterbottle for mixing drinks.
i’ll be back my precious text file, i’m going to make a few whiskey and waters using a empty unisom bottle i just found. for the win 🙂
wow it’s weird recognizing terrain from the previous Miami trip. how things have changed since then the last vacation to Miami. same body, same mind, totally different life and personality. Same addictions, same vices, all probably worse.
so apparently this train is very packed, we don’t have the usual 2 seats for 1 person like most amtrak trains. a 56 yr old Puerto Rican sits down next to me. i sway back and forth to my tori amos and finally he decides to break the ice. he explains he doesn’t understand much english but he teaches sociology in peurta rico. i reach into my backpack and pull out my 5th of jack daniels, mix it carefully into a unisom bottle and walk to bathroom to add some water since i’m not man enough to drink it straight. Being the gentleman and scholar i am, i offer some to Nicholoas. He raises his pepsi bottle and says “bacardi and pepsi”.
God has a great sense of humor putting people of the same hobby next to each other.
The language barrier and alcohol are owning our conversation. I realize in the first 10-15 minutes that i speak english in a very umm creative manner. I tend to talk with a lot of adjectives. Trying my hardest with the help of drugs and alcohol to add as many descriptive nouns and adjectives to a situation to try to bring you, my reader, into my mental diaster.
It turns out he has learned english from tv and music. I put the headphones on him and make him listen to Mary’s Of The Sea playing on my mp3 player. Total confused face, says it’s bueno. He explains he’s in Miami to buy a car, he buys a corvette from what i can tell. He’s retiring in december and wants a “fun” car to enjoy. His brother is a mechanic in Miami and owns a garage and he got him this car. He goes on to tell me me about how everyone in his town in peurta rico gather every saturday in the one “bar” as i could tell. Here they sing and dance and “young people like me” meet each other. I wonder what the internet is for there.
He explains to me that the highways here are much nicer, and in Puerto rico the front end suspenion gets blown out on most american cars there, thats why he got a corvette, a nice american car.
I give him a crackhore koozie after about a hour of great conversation and try to explain my life. The language barrier totally owns my “i make websites and drink for a living.” crackhore really needs a universal translator for “loser lifestyle”. i show him pics of our memorial day part which i happen to have on my laptop. He sees a picture of wes flicking off the camera. he exclaims “very peurta rican”. He sees the 10 pics after wes of some girl at the party’s ass. He exclaims again “very Puerto Rican”.
the whole time we’re trying this drunk cultural exchange, im getting up every 10-15 minutes to add water to the unisom bottle that i’m drinking out of. i pour about a shot and a half into my unisom shot glass, walk to bathroom a few stumbles away, fill it halfway with water, shake and shoot. from this day forth, drinking whiskey and water from a unisom bottle on a train using train water is known as a “train wreck”.
at this post i’ve had about 5 “train wrecks” on the way to Orlando and still another hour and a half before i arrive in Orlando. the environment outside the train window is very bright and much more alive then it was before all this whiskey. going to lay down for a while.
ugh the amtrak lady said my headphones were too loud. my mp died a while ago so i am listening to rage against the machine’s first album on my headphones. whiskey and water from the unisom bottle. tastes so good. got a hour and a half left on the train. god i hate old white people. like a life of pleasure and winning because of the color of your skin makes you think you’re better then people of your same skin. this lady is really asking for it. everytime she comes by she asks for my ticket, like there are 3-4 drunk webdesigners back here trying to trick her out of tickets. why can’t you die and stop voting republican and let the rest of us holy humans get on with their life. i guess i’ll be that bitter when im 70 yrs old building sites. be mean to anyone younger then me sounds like a great lifestyle. god fucking cunt. worst problem is she’s probably been with amtrak since the beginning so it’s hard as hell to even get a complaint sent up about her.
i am pretty drunk, almost to orlando, thank god. i am so surprised i got to my train on time. jesus was throwing me props today, for the win. i really need to eat when the train stops. it usually goes eat, pot, sleeping pills, alcohol, sleep. today it’s been wake, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink and hopefully win. god this isn’t making any sense.